"And so he wos Paul Vart--eh? Dis young man wos Paul Vart, von London aus? And Paul Vart will back to London, and Hollandisch money no good there--eh? Best change for English, and der old Schaub shall change for eem--eh?" "I'm not going back to London, Mr. Schaub," said George, after a few moments' puzzling over the old man's meaning, "I'm not going back to London; but I shall want to change this money, as I must send some of it, the larger portion, to England by tonight's post, and? am going to the bank to change it." "Wass! der bank! der nonsense! It is the old Schaub vot vill change! Give de good rates and all! Ach, der old Schaub vot has der English bank-note to send mit dem posttrager! Der old Schaub vot den miser dey call! Der Schaub vill change die gulden for den bank-notes, m-ja?" "It does not matter to me much who changes it, so long as I get the proper value!" said George with a laugh; "and if the old Schaub, as you call yourself, can give me bank-notes for a hundred and forty-pounds, I'll say done with you at once!" "Wass vat wos 'done' mit me for a hundert forty pounds! See--first vill make the door to. Let das folk call miser old Schaub, but not let das folk see vot old Schaub misers. Ha, ha!" So saying the old gentleman closed the door of the shop, and locked it carefully. Then he retired to the back of the counter, removed several heavy old books from one of the shelves, and unlocked a secret closet in the wall. When he turned again to George, whom he had left on the other side of the counter, he had a little roll of English bank-notes in his hand. From this he selected four notes--two of the value of fifty, and two of twenty pounds. These he handed to Dallas, receiving the equivalent in Dutch money. "I am very much obliged to you indeed, Mr. Schaub," said George. "By doing this for me, you've saved my going to the bank, and a good deal of trouble." "Obliged to him is not at all, mein goot freund, Vart--Paul Vart," said the old gentleman. "Miser das folk calls old Schaub, but it is not that; he has his leetle commissions, vy not be as vell as banks? Goot deal of money pass through old Schaub's hands, and of vot pass none go clean through, always von little shticks to him fingers!" That night George Dallas wrote to Stewart Routh, enclosing him the money, and telling him that literary engagements had sprung up which might perhaps keep him some little time from London. The letter despatched, he felt a different man. The tie was loosed, the coupling-chain was broken! No longer enthralled by a debt of gratitude to vice, he could try what he could do to make a name--a name which his mother should not blush to hear--a name which should be murmured with delight by Clare Carruthers! CHAPTER XVI. IDLESSE.